I became a better version of myself. Now my life is…
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I became a better version of myself. Now my life is ruined.
My mom always said there were two versions of me: the perfect one and the troubled one. She always hoped the perfect one would shine and I tried my best to be her version of perfect.
When she died, the troubled version became the only version. I couldn’t control my sadness. I was a mess without her and there was nobody left to be perfect for. My dad and I had barely communicated since we lost her. I had ignored texts from friends and family. I hated everyone and I missed my mom.
One day when I was riding the bus I noticed I didn’t remember getting on the bus. I shrugged it off and continued listening to music. The volume seemed to turn itself down on its own. Everything went blurry and then black.
I woke up in class and everyone was laughing.
“That was so funny. Only you could come up with that” said my friend sitting next to me.
I laughed it off but inside I was panicking. What had I said? When did I get off the bus?
The rest of the day was fairly normal. I didn’t really talk to anyone but I managed to stay awake for all my classes. As I was walking to the exit, I felt weird again. My vision blurred and I fell into blackness.
I woke up on the bus again. I didn’t move a muscle until I reached my stop. I was terrified of blacking out. I felt like part of my day was just missing. When I went inside I was actually excited to see my dad. As soon as I saw him, my eyes blurred again and I fell to my knees before everything went black once again.
The next day was much more erratic in blackouts. I would wake up and fall asleep every 20 minutes or so. This created chaos being thrown into conversations and decisions I didn’t remember making. It seemed like someone else was living part of my life for me.
They were unfortunately better at it than I was. People were thanking me that I didn’t remember meeting. People were referencing inside jokes I didn’t remember making. It wasn’t really fair. It seemed like I blacked out at any opportunity I had to be happy. As a result I was spending what little time I had being cognizant very angry and upset.
Over time, I started missing full days during blackouts. I was making life decisions and forming relationships without my own consent. I felt like my life was being reconstructed by someone else. Someone I hated. Who could be doing this for me while I’m blacked out and making it look like it’s me?
When I missed my first full week and came back on a date with a woman I had never met, I realized what was happening. The perfect version was taking over. The sad, troubled version will only experience the worst parts of life until my other half had taken over completely.
If my conscious hours keep dwindling down, I will cease to exist.
I tried explaining it to people.
"You're not blacking out," Jessica said. "You've just finally started acting like yourself again."
My dad actually smiled for the first time since Mom died.
"I'm proud of you, son.”
The words made me sick because he wasn’t talking about me. He was talking about someone I had never met using my body to slowly push me out of my own life.
I started leaving notes for myself before bed.
**YOU ARE NOT THE REAL ME.**
Every morning I would wake up to replies written in my own handwriting.
**Neither are you.**
One afternoon I found a letter in my backpack. It was addressed to me. The handwriting was mine.
*I know you're scared.*
*Mom was right. There were always two of us.*
*You think I'm stealing your life, but I've been carrying it for years. Every time you froze during a conversation. Every time you were too afraid to ask someone out. Every time you wanted to disappear. I was there.*
*After Mom died, you stopped living.*
*Someone had to continue on.*
I burned the letter and I kicked the ashes around the backyard. I tried my best to stay in a negative state of mind just to hold onto my reality. I stayed up as late as I could that night but my eyes started to get heavy.
My phone woke me up with frantic vibrations under my pillow. I opened my phone to hundreds of angry text messages and DMs. Friends, family and people I hadn’t spoken to in years were viciously responding to something I had texted them. When I read one of the conversations, I was horrified with the message that had been sent from my phone. It was like I had set my life on fire in my sleep. While I was happy to be conscious, I was miserable.
As tears filled my eyes, I noticed a note sitting on my bedside written in my handwriting.
*I ruined your life so you could have it back.*
#entertainment
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My mom always said there were two versions of me: the perfect one and the troubled one. She always hoped the perfect one would shine and I tried my best to be her version of perfect.
When she died, the troubled version became the only version. I couldn’t control my sadness. I was a mess without her and there was nobody left to be perfect for. My dad and I had barely communicated since we lost her. I had ignored texts from friends and family. I hated everyone and I missed my mom.
One day when I was riding the bus I noticed I didn’t remember getting on the bus. I shrugged it off and continued listening to music. The volume seemed to turn itself down on its own. Everything went blurry and then black.
I woke up in class and everyone was laughing.
“That was so funny. Only you could come up with that” said my friend sitting next to me.
I laughed it off but inside I was panicking. What had I said? When did I get off the bus?
The rest of the day was fairly normal. I didn’t really talk to anyone but I managed to stay awake for all my classes. As I was walking to the exit, I felt weird again. My vision blurred and I fell into blackness.
I woke up on the bus again. I didn’t move a muscle until I reached my stop. I was terrified of blacking out. I felt like part of my day was just missing. When I went inside I was actually excited to see my dad. As soon as I saw him, my eyes blurred again and I fell to my knees before everything went black once again.
The next day was much more erratic in blackouts. I would wake up and fall asleep every 20 minutes or so. This created chaos being thrown into conversations and decisions I didn’t remember making. It seemed like someone else was living part of my life for me.
They were unfortunately better at it than I was. People were thanking me that I didn’t remember meeting. People were referencing inside jokes I didn’t remember making. It wasn’t really fair. It seemed like I blacked out at any opportunity I had to be happy. As a result I was spending what little time I had being cognizant very angry and upset.
Over time, I started missing full days during blackouts. I was making life decisions and forming relationships without my own consent. I felt like my life was being reconstructed by someone else. Someone I hated. Who could be doing this for me while I’m blacked out and making it look like it’s me?
When I missed my first full week and came back on a date with a woman I had never met, I realized what was happening. The perfect version was taking over. The sad, troubled version will only experience the worst parts of life until my other half had taken over completely.
If my conscious hours keep dwindling down, I will cease to exist.
I tried explaining it to people.
"You're not blacking out," Jessica said. "You've just finally started acting like yourself again."
My dad actually smiled for the first time since Mom died.
"I'm proud of you, son.”
The words made me sick because he wasn’t talking about me. He was talking about someone I had never met using my body to slowly push me out of my own life.
I started leaving notes for myself before bed.
**YOU ARE NOT THE REAL ME.**
Every morning I would wake up to replies written in my own handwriting.
**Neither are you.**
One afternoon I found a letter in my backpack. It was addressed to me. The handwriting was mine.
*I know you're scared.*
*Mom was right. There were always two of us.*
*You think I'm stealing your life, but I've been carrying it for years. Every time you froze during a conversation. Every time you were too afraid to ask someone out. Every time you wanted to disappear. I was there.*
*After Mom died, you stopped living.*
*Someone had to continue on.*
I burned the letter and I kicked the ashes around the backyard. I tried my best to stay in a negative state of mind just to hold onto my reality. I stayed up as late as I could that night but my eyes started to get heavy.
My phone woke me up with frantic vibrations under my pillow. I opened my phone to hundreds of angry text messages and DMs. Friends, family and people I hadn’t spoken to in years were viciously responding to something I had texted them. When I read one of the conversations, I was horrified with the message that had been sent from my phone. It was like I had set my life on fire in my sleep. While I was happy to be conscious, I was miserable.
As tears filled my eyes, I noticed a note sitting on my bedside written in my handwriting.
*I ruined your life so you could have it back.*
#entertainment
source
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